


Heaven Sent, Hell Bent

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angels and Demons, Dream Sex, F/M, Fallen Angels, Ritual Sex, actual sex, all the sex, halloween fic, somewhat supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: Belle French thought that she had pretty much the perfect life. A job she enjoyed, a fiancé she adored, and a future all planned out ahead of her.
All that changed when the enigmatic Mr Gold came to town, and Belle began to have some very strange dreams…





	

 

**Heaven Sent, Hell Bent**

_It’s grey, and misty all around. Nothing as far as the eye can see, but it’s a chilling mist, cool and dangerous and promising terrors hidden in it around the next corner, a mist that keeps people indoors with the windows bolted. A mist that repels and repulses and sends shivers down the spines of all who stand out in it. Nothing to be seen, but everything to be heard. Voices all around that are unable to be located, disorientating and fearsome for their lack of direction. Two in particular are not loud but none the less clearer than the rest._

_“This one has gone too long unchecked. Such a graceful fall, so slow and unnoticeable. Slipped through the net, you might say. This needs to be brought to an end as soon as possible.”_

_“Who’s the target?”_

_There is no response, and the second voice speaks again._

_“She is… striking.”_

_“I know what you’re thinking.” The first voice is older, colder, harsher like a sharp gust of wind. “You’re thinking she could be the one to raise you.”_

_“I did not say anything, Master.”_

_“Ah, but I know you. I know how you think. You may well be right. She is remarkably resilient, all things considered. Still, I’m sure your considerable talents will be more than a match for the opposition.”_

_“I’ll do my best.”_

_“You know the consequences should you fail.”_

_“I do, Master.”_

_“Good. Now go. Time is of the essence. This one can’t be allowed to linger any longer. The malignance is already taking root.”_

_A shape appears through the mist, a human shape…_

Belle’s eyes shot open and she looked around the room in alarm, sitting up and running a hand through her hair, damp with cold sweat. She glanced over at Gaston but he seemed undisturbed for her sudden waking, and she rested her forehead on her knees, panting heavily. What a weird dream. On the surface there had been nothing particularly scary in it, no monsters or noises or things to make her jump, but all the same, throughout the dream she had felt a paralytic fear, unable to move or even just to turn and try to find the source of those chilling voices. Something had rooted her to the spot, keeping her looking straight ahead and listening to the conversation. It had been so cryptic, and yet Belle knew that they were talking about her. What had they said? She was some kind of target, but for what? For whom? Who were those two men who had been talking? The first voice still sent a shiver down her spine even at the memory of it. It had sounded so cruel, so… inhuman. Like something out of a horror movie, something that didn’t have a soul.

The other one hadn’t sounded as bad. Human, nuanced, able to express emotion. And that shape in the mist; that had been a human shape. Had it owned the voice? Was it now coming to get her?

She shook her head crossly. It was just a dream, there was no need to be paranoid about it. No-one was coming to get her, there wasn’t a target on her back. She’d just had a nightmare, that was all there was to it.

Gaston shifted in his sleep, turning over and nuzzling in close against where she had been lying up until a few moments before. Unconsciously he seemed to realise that she was no longer there and his eyes flickered open, squinting at her through the darkness.

“Belle?” he asked, voice slurred with sleep. “You ok, babe?”

Belle nodded, although her pounding heart did not agree with her in the slightest.

“I’m fine,” she said, wishing that she didn’t sound quite so unsure. “Just had a nightmare, I’m ok now. Go back to sleep.”

“All right.”

He raised himself up on his arms to press a kiss to her cheek and murmured good night in her ear before getting comfortable against the pillows again, turning over, and going back to sleep almost immediately. Belle envied him; the glowing numbers on her alarm clock showed that it was twenty past three in the morning and she was wide awake. There was no way that she would be going back to sleep again in a hurry, not after that scare. Although, she couldn’t really pinpoint what it was about the dream that had scared her. It was fading now, the words becoming fuzzy; and there had been no real images to forget in the first place, just that terrible grey mist. But for all she was losing the dialogue to wakefulness, she could still remember that fear, the metallic taste coating the back of her tongue as a lump rose in her throat and her stomach churned itself into knots.

Belle got out of bed and padded across to the bathroom, filling a glass with cold water and perching on the edge of the bathtub as she drank it. It was just a dream. She’d had plenty of dreams in her time, both good ones and bad, and she hadn’t given any of those another thought, so why was this one keeping her awake? She swirled the dregs of water around in the glass, trying to consider the situation logically. Dreams were often manifestations of fears or worries in waking life. Sometimes if one had been subconsciously worrying about something and dreamed about it, and that scenario then later arose, it could be called a sort of premonition. Sometimes dreams were formed from memories that had been repressed and forgotten about, which gave the impression of them being pictures from a past life.

Belle knew all that. But Belle also knew that up until she had woken from that strange dream, there had been nothing in her life that had been worrying her at all, and she certainly couldn’t remember a time in which she had ever been persecuted like that. In fact, her life was on a pretty good uphill swing at the moment. The library renovations were finished and the children’s section had never looked better; she’d lost that final pound she’d been trying to shed for years, and to put the icing on the cake, she was engaged. Belle glanced down at the third finger of her left hand, where during the day the impressive marquise cut diamond would sit, and she smiled for the first time since waking. She and Gaston had had something of a whirlwind romance, she would admit that, but there had been something about him from the moment he had come to town; they had both felt that instant and undeniable connection and become firm friends. Then that had very quickly blossomed into being more than friends, and that had grown ever more quickly into love, and that had become Gaston taking her on a weekend away to New York and going down on one knee at Liberty’s feet, proposing on the podium as Belle blushed and tried not to cry and said yes, although wishing that he’d chosen a slightly less public place for his declaration.

Up until that unnerving dream, everything about Belle’s life had been utterly perfect. So why did she now have the strangest feeling that something was very, very wrong?

She shook her head, pushing her fear and unease to the back of her mind as she left the bathroom and returned to bed, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling until a fitful, uneasy slumber came over her. It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything at all.

There was nothing to worry about.

X

Thanks to her broken night and not getting quite as much sleep as she had intended, Belle was somewhat groggy the next morning when she left the apartment to go and open up the library, and she didn’t notice the crowd of people that were gathered on the street outside the building until she was almost upon it. For a moment she was worried that she’d managed to oversleep in her confusion and these were all patrons waiting patiently to be let into the library, but after checking her watch to make sure that she was in fact on time, her brain helpfully told her that there were never that many people wanting to get into the library at opening time, and at any rate, they were all looking across the road, not at the building they were all clustered around. Puzzled, Belle came to a stop beside them and followed their collective gaze. She could quite well see why they were so transfixed.

The shop on the corner opposite the library had stood with boarded windows and peeling paint for as long as Belle could remember. It had been an antique shop originally, and its first owner had been a pawnbroker, but he had moved on years before she had come to the town and the building had never been requisitioned.

Now, however, the boards were down from the windows which gleamed in the early morning sun, and the stock was polished up and on display. A new sign, freshly painted, hung above the door.

_Mr Gold, Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer_

Belle’s brow furrowed. It was nice to see that the place had a new lease of life after so long abandoned and unloved, but it had happened so suddenly, so out of the blue. There had been no rumours about a new owner coming to take over the shop, and in a town as small as Storybrooke, gossip spread like wildfire. This Mr Gold, whoever he was, was a mystery, and it looked like he was going to be the only topic of conversation for the next few days. Although the sign in the shop window very clearly stated that the place was open for business, no-one had yet ventured across and entered the place, everyone preferring to scope it out from a distance, as was always the case with something new, whether it was expected or not. Belle pushed through the crowd and unlocked the library, trying to put her unease at the suddenly changed appearance of the shop out of her mind. Perhaps it was just the fact that it had come on top of her unnerving dream, but she just couldn’t shake that foreboding feeling. Something wasn’t right. Shops just didn’t reopen overnight; surely they would have seen some kind of renovation work going on over the past week if the place had been bought and was being done up ready for reopening. Going to empty the quick-drop bin, she glanced out of the window again. The crowd was starting to disperse, having lost interest in the antiques shop, and she looked over at the place with a critical eye. It looked dark inside, for all it said that it was open, and there were no signs of life; from Mr Gold or from any potential customers.

She put the shop to the back of her mind. Had it been any other shop in any other circumstances that had just been newly opened, Belle would have wasted no time in using her lunch hour to go and take a look for herself at what new treasures were to be found in Storybrooke. As it was, she felt no such desire with this place.

All the same, as discomfiting as it was, it was still somewhat intriguing, and she found herself casting glances across at the place all morning, wanting to see if anyone had actually ventured across the threshold yet or if everyone had the same mixed and wary feelings towards the place as she did.

It was coming up to lunch time when movement caught the corner of her eye, and she turned on instinct to follow it. The antiques shop door had opened and a man had stepped out. Given that Storybrooke was a small town wherein everyone knew everyone else, and probably had known everyone else's grandparents, cousins, uncles, and childhood pets, the fact that Belle did not recognise the man immediately told her that he was the Mr Gold who was now proprietor of the business opposite her library. He locked up the shop and stood just outside it for a moment, looking up and down the street and drinking in the atmosphere of the place, and Belle used this time to form her first impression of the man. 

He was small and slim, and impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit and tie. Greying hair on the long-ish side, and a gold-handled cane in his right hand. It was hard to judge his age from this distance; the cane was deceptive, but Belle pegged him to be in his early fifties. 

Presently he moved, and she was surprised when he crossed the street and entered the library, looking around leisurely for a moment before his eyes found her behind the issue desk. She hastily shoved her sandwich and lurid romance novel under the table and straightened up from where she had been peering through the window.

"Welcome to Storybrooke Library," she said. "Can I help you at all?"

Mr Gold smiled, revealing a hint of gold in his mouth. "Perhaps." 

Belle tilted her head to one side as he came over. 

"I've just arrived in town; I'm getting a feel for the place," he said. His accent was Scottish, a warm, low brogue that made something inside of her melt. She shook herself mentally; she'd always had a thing for accents. "But if I'm not mistaken, you're not from round here yourself. Melbourne?"

Belle nodded. "I'm impressed at your specificity. Most people can just identify Australia. I'm afraid I can't narrow it down further than Scotland for you."

Gold laughed. 

"Originally from Glasgow," he said, before hooking his cane over the issue desk and extending a hand towards her. "Gold. Pleased to meet you."

"Belle French. Likewise."

There was something about him. Belle couldn't quite put her finger on it but there was something about him that didn't feel quite right. He seemed... out of place. As if he'd dropped out of the sky with his shop but landed a few miles short of the mark. 

"Have you seen much of the town?" she asked. Considering he appeared to have arrived in the middle of the night and she had the distinct impression she was the first person in Storybrooke to actually lay eyes on him, she thought it would be miraculous if he had. Sure enough, he shook his head.

"No, I haven't had the chance. I thought I might as well introduce myself to my neighbour first." He gave her a courteous nod. 

"Well, we're not exactly the centre of the universe, but Granny's Diner does a great burger and iced tea. Avoid the lasagne though. No-one's quite sure what's in it."

Gold chuckled; a deep, throaty sound that reminded her of a big cat purring. That was what was unnerving her. There was something predatory about him, like he was on the hunt. For a moment she thought once more of her strange dream the night before. She had just about managed to put it to the back of her mind as the product of an overheated imagination, but the memory came again, the fear of persecution. Gold's arrival had to be coincidental, right? He surely hadn't come here to target her, the notion was preposterous. 

They continued to talk about the town for a while, Belle slipping into helpful librarian mode as she pointed out places of interest and nuggets of history, like the time Leroy fell into the well whilst drunk and wasn't discovered missing until the next morning. It hadn't stopped the man drinking, but he hadn't gone near the well again since. Gold never shared any information about himself; although she tried prompting him a couple of times, he always managed to deflect her tentative questioning and in the end she gave up, content to let him remain an enigma.

"You're a dancer, aren't you?" he said, just as he was turning to leave.

Belle stared at him. 

"Pardon?"

"A dancer. Ballet?"

Belle nodded. "How did you know?"

"Your posture."

He left the library with that parting comment, and Belle stared after him. She had been a ballet dancer till she was sixteen and a shoulder injury put an end to her plans, and she hadn't danced since. How the hell had he known? It felt like he knew so much about her - her birthplace, her dancing origins... She didn't even know his first name. 

She shivered, again thinking about her dream. He was a very strange man, Mr Gold, one she would probably be avoiding in the future. 

All the same... 

She glanced out of the window again as he returned to his shop. Something about him made her want to find out so much more.

X

_Belle is in the dance studio where she spent most of her youth. It's a big, imposing room, barre running around the mirrored walls, but she doesn't notice her surroundings as she jumps and pirouettes, losing herself in the music and the choreography and the long-forgotten feeling of pointes on her feet. She aches, muscles having become unused to the activities they are now performing, but it's a good ache, a feeling of triumph that she's still got what it takes. Something catches the corner of her eye as she's spotting, and she pushes it to the back of her mind, finishing the spin and dropping down into a curtsey for the audience that isn't there._

_Behind her, she hears enthusiastic applause, and she looks up into the mirror to see Mr Gold leaning casually on the barre, his cane hooked over the rail beside him. He's still dressed as impeccably as he was in the library, with his dark suit, dark coat, dark eyes and dark, hungry smile. How did he get in without her noticing? Does this room even have a door? She glances around in the mirrors as she straightens up, but she can see no visible entrance. Or, for that matter, a visible exit. Although, as she studies Mr Gold in the mirror and every nerve screams at her that this man is dangerous, she's not entirely sure that she wants to escape from his presence. There's something enticing about his darkness. It draws her in and makes her want to find out more. She stays watching him in the mirror as he moves towards her._

_"Beautiful," he breathes, and the first touch of his hand against her arm is searing, heat racing through her veins and her pulse raising as his long fingers stroke down her arms to dance across her palms and back up to her shoulders. "So beautiful and sensual." He leans in, pressing up close against her back, and she can feel the scorching heat of his body through the perfectly tailored layers of his suit, and he whispers in her ear, his hot breath tickling her skin._

_"Show me more," he hisses, and one hand skims down her side to rest on her hip. "Show me everything."_

_Then his intoxicating presence moves away and Belle shivers at the sudden rush of cold where his body had been._

_"Everything," he says, his eyes never leaving her face in the mirror. "I want to see all of you. All the deepest, darkest, most secret parts of you, body and soul. Show me all of you."_

_Something stops Belle from turning to face him, as if when she does, she will find that he is no longer there; that he only exists in this mirror in front of her. Slowly, carefully, she slips first one leotard strap, then the other, off her shoulders, and his greedy gaze never leaves her as she peels the tight garment down her body to pool at her feet, stepping out of it daintily and looking up at her reflection. She's standing in the middle of the room, completely naked apart from her pointe shoes. Her breath is curling into misty tendrils in front of her and her skin turns to gooseflesh, but Belle doesn't feel the cold._

_"Exquisite," Gold's voice says, bringing her back to the present as his gaze rakes over her unashamed nudity. Somehow it feels natural, this state of bareness, there's no embarrassment or awkwardness. "Doesn't it feel so much better like this? Uninhibited, unrestricted?"_

_Unbidden, Belle begins to dance again, with a new fierceness and passion in her movements, and suddenly Gold is back next to her, dancing with her, his warm hands moving over her bare body, fingers ghosting over her skin as he lifts and twirls her, and then they come to a stop in their previous aspect. His front is pressed up against her back, his hands wandering all over her as her chest heaves and sweat drips down her body. Belle quivers under his touch, watching in the mirror as his fingers move and feeling the heady desire pooling between her legs with the need to feel his hands there._

_"So beautiful," he whispers in her ear. "So lovely."_

_His hands skim down over her breasts, catching her hard, sensitive nipples, and Belle moans with want as one warm fingertip traces around her puckered areola, maddeningly close to where she is desperate and aching to be touched._

_"Let go," he hisses, and there's a dangerous tone in his voice. "Let go and follow your instincts. Give in to your passion."_

_His lips press against her neck, hot and branding, and he pinches her nipple hard, sending a shock of pleasure and stimulation straight to her groin where she's so wet, so ready for him to go further..._

Belle startled into wakefulness and took a moment to come back to herself after the intensity of the dream. As reality returned, she realised that she had thrown the covers off during the night and her camisole straps had fallen down, exposing her chest. Her own hand was cupping her left breast, her own fingertips teasing her pert nipple. Shifting, she felt the gusset of her panties wet and slippery with arousal.

Embarrassed by her dream in a way she had not been during it, Belle tugged her camisole straps back up to cover herself again and slipped out of bed, grabbing a clean pair of panties from her drawer and going to use the bathroom. She stuffed the damp pair in the laundry hamper, raking her hands through her mussed hair. Two strange dreams in as many nights, and although she had not felt any fear in this one, it still unnerved her more than the first. Why would she dream of Mr Gold, of all people? A man she’d met once and knew so very little about, despite the fact he seemed to know all about her? And why the studio? She supposed it was because he knew she was a dancer and so it had been brought to the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a dream so erotic, or who her partner was in it. Probably some actor or sports star she’d had a crush on at the time. Certainly not someone who was basically a stranger, and certainly not when she had been sleeping happily beside her fiancé. She shook her head, thoughts still in turmoil, and returned to the bedroom. Gaston was still sleeping peacefully where he had been before, undisturbed for her own troubled night. She wondered if she ought to tell him about the dream. Even though it had only been a dream, it still felt like she was being unfaithful to him in a way. Was this some kind of subconscious desire? In her dream she had wanted Gold to touch her; she had ached for it in fact, her entire body thrumming with a need that had not completely died on waking. She hadn’t once thought about Gaston. Only Gold, and the way his fingers moved on her in ways that Gaston’s never had.

Belle slipped back into bed and stared at the ceiling, willing some clarity of thought and some dreamless sleep to come. She couldn’t help feeling that there was something very odd about Mr Gold, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. He couldn’t have just turned up out of nowhere and opened the antique shop. There were trails, there were leads, and Belle had always loved a good detective novel. All she had to do was follow the threads and see where they took her to. She was going to find out what he was.

Who he was.

No. What seemed like the better word to use in the circumstances. Something about him unnerved her enough to think of him as a what, not a who.

Eventually she fell back into an uneasy sleep, tossing and turning as she remembered the freeing feeling of dancing whilst nude and the burning of Gold’s hands on her skin, a burning that a small part of her, one that she did not dare give voice to, wanted to feel again.

X

Having spent most of the day bolstering her courage, Belle stepped out of the library, locked up and made her way with measured and confident steps - a confidence she wasn't entirely sure that she felt - across the road to Gold's shop. It was time to confront him. Not about the dream; that was something that she would probably never admit to another soul as long as she lived. But about everything else that was bugging her about him. Where had he come from? What was his name? Why was he here in Storybrooke of all places and what did he want with them? How did he know so much about her despite them never having met?

The bell above the door jangled as she entered, but there was no sign of Gold in the shop. 

"Mr Gold?" she called. "Are you in here?"

"I'll be with you shortly, dearie," his voice said from behind the curtain that separated the back room from the main shop. "Feel free to browse in the meantime."

Belle glanced around the items on display, too keyed up to really take any of them in when all she wanted was to say her piece and get some answers. Gold must have been incredibly trusting to leave the shop unattended like this, she saw enough to know that some of the things on display were worth more than her month's salary. 

There were a pair of creepy-looking puppets propped up on top of a display unit, and Belle shivered. It wasn't the puppets in and of themselves that caused her so much alarm, rather the pained expressions on their faces. Perhaps the shop wasn't entirely unguarded after all. No, that was a silly notion. All the same, she averted her eyes hastily, looking up at a display of antique jewellery instead. The pieces in the case were beautiful, exquisitely worked in gold and silver, and she reached out to touch the glass. 

Just then the bell jangled violently, heralding the speedy arrival of another customer, and Belle spun on her heel to see Gaston entering the shop. 

"Belle!" he hissed under his breath, glancing fearfully over at the curtain from behind which Gold had still not emerged. "What are you doing in here? I saw you come in from down the street!"

Belle shrugged. "I'm looking around. It's an open shop, after all."

"Come on, you've got to get out of here!" Gaston gestured for him to follow her out, and perturbed, Belle crossed the room slowly.

"What's going on?" she asked as they met in the doorway. 

"Let's just go, I'll explain," Gaston said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the shop and running away down the road. It was only once the pawnbroker's was no longer in sight that he stopped and turned to her. 

"You shouldn't go in there, Belle," he said. "You know what people are saying about him."

"Actually, I don't," Belle mused. "I haven't heard anyone saying anything about him, now that I come to think of it."

Gaston shook his head, worried. "I've heard he's some kind of... devil worshipper, you know? There's so much weird stuff in that shop, it gives me the creeps."

Belle thought again about those terrifying puppets, and she gave a nod of acquiescence. But devil worship? That was going a bit too far, and she told Gaston so. 

"I'm being serious, Belle! I don't trust him! I don't think you or anyone else should be alone with him."

Belle thought it best not to mention the extended conversation she'd had with the man the previous day. Now that she thought about it, maybe Gaston was right and there was something supernatural at work. It would explain a lot of the things that she had entered the shop seeking an explanation to. Unfortunately, Gaston's words just made her want to go back and investigate more for herself. 

"Please, Belle." Her fiancé's voice was soft and pleading. "Please, I just want you to be safe."

Belle conceded with a nod. Perhaps she could find out some more about the man from the people around town. He had to be staying somewhere, after all. Then again... Something about the entire set-up of his spontaneously opening shop and sudden appearance made her somewhat sceptical of that…

X

_Belle is in Mr Gold’s shop, and she stares about in wonder at her surroundings. It’s a treasure trove, a paradise for a knick-knack collector like her. So many trinkets, so many curios. But something’s not quite right. Out of the corner of her eye she keeps seeing flashes of things that can’t possibly be real, but when she turns to look at them properly, they vanish, blending in to the background of the shop. It’s unnerving, but like with everything about the man, it’s also fascinating._

_“Something catch your eye, dearie?”_

_Belle turns to see Gold standing behind the counter. She’s fairly sure he wasn’t there before, but then, he’s popped up out of nowhere on other occasions._

_“It all looks so wonderful,” she says, gazing around in awe. “I don’t know where to start.”_

_“Ah, yes, it is beautiful,” Gold responds. “But sometimes the most beautiful things are the most deadly, you know.”_

_“Are you talking about anything in particular, Mr Gold?” Belle asks. “Yourself, perhaps?”_

_It’s a brazen statement that Belle is sure she would never make in any other circumstances but there’s something about the man that brings out her darker, uninhibited side. Did she dance naked for him or was that just a dream? At any rate, he doesn’t reply except to give a wolfish smile, flashing a hint of gold tooth._

_“Perhaps that’s something you ought to find out for yourself, Miss French,” he says eventually._

_“Perhaps I intend to.” There’s something so inviting about his dark eyes, drawing her in like a moth drawn to a flame. It’s almost entrancing, the depth of his gaze, and although she knows she must, Belle can’t look away._

_“Come on through,” he says, gesturing to the curtain that partitions off the back room. “The most exciting items are kept in my private collection and are not usually on show to the public, but I think I can make an exception for someone as lovely and as interested in my wares as you.”_

_Belle follows him through the curtain into an Aladdin’s cave of treasures. Her eyes flicker from one antique gem to the next, but ultimately they alight on the doors and windows; locked, bolted and barred._

_“Security conscious, Mr Gold?” she quips._

_“The most precious things in this life have to be protected the most thoroughly,” Gold replies. His eyes never leave her, and the intensity of his stare is powerful. It’s almost as if he’s looking through her clothes and skin and into her very soul._

_“It’s not too late to get out,” he says conversationally. “You can always turn around and leave.”_

_But Belle doesn’t want to go. Now that she’s here, in the inner sanctum of this mysterious individual, she intends to stay and find out as much about him as possible. But he’s there, sitting perched on the workbench, and Belle’s feeling an undeniable pull in the pit of her stomach whenever she looks at him. He’s mesmerising, and she knows that she won’t be able to concentrate on anything else until she’s satisfied that desire._

_She takes a couple of steps towards him and his smile widens languidly, beckoning her in further._

_“There’s something you want, isn’t there?” he says conversationally. “That little itch you need to scratch, because it’s driving you slowly round the bend. There’s no harm in it, you know.”_

_For a brief moment, a thought of Gaston passes through her mind, and Belle falters, but then it fades._

_“Forget him,” Gold says airily, as if he can read her thoughts. Maybe he can; she wouldn’t put it past him. Still, she does as he suggests, and there are no more thoughts of Gaston as she closes the distance between them and boldly takes Gold by the tie, pulling him in and crashing her mouth against his. He’s eager and ready, hard tongue pressing for entry that Belle allows without reservation. His mouth is hot, almost uncomfortably so, and so are his hands as he reaches around behind her and lifts her skirt, pulling her panties down a little to expose her bottom, and he grabs her buttocks hard, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. Belle squirms under his touch, wanting more of the heat against her cool skin, and Gold chuckles against her mouth._

_“So eager,” he purrs. “I’m flattered.”_

_Belle groans as he yanks her panties down to her knees and cups her mound, thumb brushing up and down the neat strip of pubic hair left behind by the beautician; she grinds herself up against his hand, desperate for friction against her clit._

_“You can still run,” Gold says in her ear as he parts her folds and coaxes her swollen pink pearl out of its hiding place, swiping her slippery juices up on his finger and smearing them over her clit. Belle’s legs are shaking and she’s breathing like she just sprinted a marathon. She doesn’t think she could run if she tried to._

_Gold pushes two fingers up into her slick entrance and Belle keens, rubbing against him, fingers clawed into the fabric of his suit as he presses firmly against her clit and she comes with a howl of primal pleasure…_

Belle woke panting and drenched with sweat, lying on her back with her legs lolling wide apart, panties tangled around one ankle and both hands busy between her thighs, slippery with her hot juices. This was getting ridiculous. Glancing over at the clock, it was almost time for her to get up anyway, so she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the room to take a shower. A cold one, to hopefully shock her to her senses and stop these incredibly inappropriate dreams about Mr Gold in their tracks. It was getting out of hand.

Rinsing through her hair, Belle thought about Gaston’s words as he had steered her out of the shop the previous day. Perhaps the notion of demonic influence wasn’t so farfetched after all.

X

Sitting at the issue desk, Belle thumbed through the religious mythology book and gave a huff of frustration. Everything was so contradictory. There were several things in favour of Gold not being of this world. The fact he had appeared out of nowhere, and there didn’t seem to be any kind of official record of him. Then again, she didn’t know his first name. Did he even _have_ a first name? He seemed to know all about her through an intuition that was nigh on uncanny. And those dreams, those heady, erotic dreams. Was it incubi who sucked out people’s life force via sexual energy from their dreams? Or was that something else?

She shook her head crossly and slammed the book shut, gazing out of the window across the street at the antiques shop and wondering just what its owner was, what he was doing here, what he wanted with her. Her brow furrowed as she saw the side door open furtively, as if whoever was opening it – Gold, presumably – wanted to check that he was unobserved. He wouldn’t be able to see her at this angle through the library window, and Belle continued to watch as a figure emerged from the back room of the shop.

She gasped as the form was revealed. It was not Gold at all. It was Gaston.

Something inside her snapped, and she snatched up her purse from under the issue desk, meaning to race after him and confront him about the fact he had practically dragged her out of the shop citing darkness and danger, and now he was in there himself. Instead of following him down the street, however, she found herself making her way across to the shop, slipping down towards the side door and peering in between the slats of the blinds.

Gold was in the back room, on his hands and knees, drawing something on the floor in chalk. It was a strange symbol, all triangles and pentagrams, and it made Belle shiver. Something was definitely up, but before she could think any more on it, something caught her eye.

Gold was in his shirtsleeves, which were rolled up above the elbow, and as he drew, she could clearly see his inner wrist and the tattoo there. It was a rusty, browny-red colour, reminiscent of dried blood, and the shape was very distinct, like a pair of stylised wings radiating out from the pulse point.

Belle gasped and moved away from the window, pressing herself flat against the cladding. She knew that shape. She had seen that shape almost every day for the last year.

Gaston had exactly the same tattoo.

Could it be a cult, perhaps? Some strange kind of devil-worshipping sect? Maybe she was thinking too deeply into the whole demon thing. Maybe it was pure coincidence. But the same tattoo, in the same place, on two such very different men, two men who had obviously just been speaking to one another…

Belle shivered and took a final fleeting glimpse through the shop window. The drawing on the floor had been completed, and Belle had just enough time to make a mental sketch before Gold threw a rug over it.

She ran back to the library, closed up, and went home. It was a Saturday; Gaston would go to watch the game at Granny’s and he wouldn’t be back till late. She had plenty of time in which to try and work out what her next move was. Probably to leave Storybrooke and never return.

Still. No harm in trying to work out what she was dealing with. If she ran, then she might never be able to stop running. Sometimes it was best to meet these things head on.

She grabbed her laptop and settled in the living room, glancing over at the door every few seconds, whenever she heard a noise. Waiting for the machine to load, she grabbed her notebook and made a couple of sketches, of the shape on the floor and the mark on the men’s wrists.

She was working blind, she knew that, trawling symbology sites until shapes were swimming in front of her eyes.

Then she saw it. The mark on the floor of Gold’s shop in a photograph, painted onto a wall somewhere.

_Hell’s Mouth, or Hellmouth_ , the caption read. _Used worldwide in angel-demon based mythologies to mark the entrance to hell or purgatory._

Belle’s blood turned to ice in her veins.

X

_Belle doesn’t know where she is. It’s a dark place, pitch black but for the glowing symbol on the ground in front of her. It’s the same symbol from Gold’s shop. The Hellmouth. As her eyes become accustomed to the gloom, she makes out the vague shapes of figures wearing long dark robes gathered all around._

_“Remove all of her clothing,” a voice says. “She has no need of it now.”_

_Unseen hands gently unzip her dress and push it down her body, her bra unclasps itself and tumbles down her arms and her panties are pulled down in short order afterwards. Belle squeals and covers herself with her hands as best she can, thighs pressed tight together._

_“There’s no need to be shy. I’ve seen it all before.”_

_It’s Gold’s voice, and Belle remembers a moment in a dance studio in a dream, a moment of uninhibited freedom. She shakes her head, hands still held firmly over her breasts and between her legs._

_“Very well, we will bow to your modesty.”_

_A hooded figure approaches with some kind of flimsy white garment. Belle grabs it and turns her back to put it on. It’s a filmy robe, practically see through, but any pretence of covering is better than nothing. There are no fastenings so she wraps it tightly around herself, arms crossing over her breasts protectively._

_Then, somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembers earmarking this very robe in a catalogue to wear on her wedding night, with only a blush and a heart-shaped patch of nether curls beneath it. The memory of the anticipation she felt then warms her blood and sends a shiver of desire through her veins; it bolsters her confidence. She’s been in unusual situations like this with Gold before. Maybe this can turn out to her liking after all._

_She turns and looks again at the soft glow of the Hellmouth on the ground. The figure lowers his hood and Gold’s face is revealed, features sharp and smirking._

_“Come, my dear,” he says, extending a hand towards her. Belle takes it and lets him lead her. “The ritual is almost complete but we are missing one crucial ingredient, one that I hope you will provide.”_

_Belle doesn’t want to think about what that might be as Gold stops by the pulsing symbol._

_“There’s really no need to fear, my dear,” he says softly. “I can assure you that no harm will come to you. You will, in fact, find the process exceedingly pleasurable.”_

_Belle’s stomach flips with anticipation, and she lets the two halves of her robe fall open, exposing her fully. Gold’s eyes appraise her naked body from top to toe._

_“Are you ready?” he asks. Belle nods and Gold smiles wolfishly, flicking at one of her erect, aching nipples and sending a jolt of pleasure through her._

_“Show me you’re ready,” he purrs._

_Belle reaches down between her legs and touches the warm wetness gathering at her entrance, showing Gold her slippery fingers._

_“Good.” He licks her hand clean. “Ah, so lovely and sweet. You’ll complete our ritual very nicely, my dear. Now, let us begin. Take off the robe, my dear.”_

_Belle lets the light silk drop to the ground, and she feels a warm breeze tease between her legs._

_There’s a carved stone table beside them – was it always there? The granite is smooth and warm to the touch, and Gold coaxes her to lie down on her back, legs wide apart, her slick sex on display._

_“All you have to do is relax,” he soothes. “Relax, don’t fear, let go and enjoy this experience.”_

_He lowers his mouth to her body, lapping at her nipples and tugging at each in turn with sharp teeth before licking his way lower. By the time he reaches her mound, Belle’s every nerve is on edge, the slightest brush of his lips against her skin making her moan and wriggle and beg for him to go down to where she wants him the most._

_Finally, his long fingers part her folds delicately and his tongue is so hot and firm against her clit. It’s an intense feeling, made more so when he presses a finger, then another, up inside her tight entrance and curls them, petting insistently at that sweet spot deep inside. It’s too much, she can feel her orgasm building and bubbling and she screams with ecstasy, hands scrabbling at the stone as she comes. Gold’s mouth and fingers are suddenly gone, and she feels a gush of hot, slippery liquid squirt out of her onto the table._

_Opening her eyes a crack, still panting in the aftermath of her climax, she sees her fluids running down the etches in the stone, dripping away towards the pulsing Hellmouth, Its light is stronger now, and Belle wonders what magical properties her orgasm has._

_“It is complete,” Gold says, and he offers her a hand to help her up off the stone, but Belle is content to lie there, too boneless with pleasure to care…_

Belle jerked her head up from where it was resting on the arm of the sofa and looked around herself with a start. She was still in the same position that she’d been in when she’d nodded off the previous evening, and she shook her head groggily. She wasn’t at all surprised at having fallen asleep in the living room. Her nights had been so disturbed since Gold’s arrival that it was a wonder she was getting any sleep at all. At least this time she knew exactly what had caused her disturbing dream. She flicked at her laptop touchpad to bring it out of sleep mode and logged back in, the page with the symbols staring back at her. A gateway into hell. Gold had a gateway to hell in his shop, and if her dream was anything to go by, he was going to use her to open it up and unleash all sorts of terror on the town.

She looked down at her notebook and at the other symbol she had sketched there. Gaston’s tattoo, the same tattoo that Gold shared in a different colour. Whilst before she would never have thought that the two men, so unalike, could be working together for any kind of purpose, seeing Gaston coming out of Gold’s shop had altered her thinking somewhat. It had unnerved her enough not to mention what she had seen to Gaston and possibly arouse his suspicions. Time, Belle knew, was of the essence. If Gold could act as quickly as his mysteriously appearing shop suggested he could, then he could do things in a finger snap and she had to work out exactly what was going on as soon as possible. Not that she knew what she was going to do once she’d worked it out. Going to the sheriff and accusing a newly arrived resident of being in league with the devil was a bit out there even by big city standards, and Storybrooke was as quaint and unexciting a town as you could get.

Belle continued to scroll and click through the symbology site until she found what she was looking for. The picture showed a tattoo similar to Gold and Gaston’s, but this time in a silvery-gold colour, softly shimmering. She read the caption.

_A mark found upon angels who have chosen to give up their wings and live as mortals amongst humans in order to better serve and protect them. Usually found on the wrist of the dominant hand, it serves as their heavenly link in the absence of their wings. Should an angel fall from grace, their mark will begin to tarnish. Once a mark has no shimmer, an angel has fallen and become a demon sentenced to purgatory, but still able to work towards redemption if true remorse is shown._

Gold’s mark was a tarnished muddy red-brown, with no shimmer to it. A fallen angel.

But Gaston’s mark…

Gaston’s was a shiny, glossy black, and had been for as long as Belle had known him.

_If an angel falls past the point of no return, their mark will turn black and will never shimmer again, dooming them to hell._

Belle’s blood turned to ice in her veins; she felt sick. Now what? She was one woman caught between two demons, their intentions unknown, and she had no-one she could turn to for help in her plight. Who would believe her? “I’m sorry to bother you but I need help, my boyfriend’s an angel-turned-demon and I think he’s working with another one to unleash the apocalypse.” No, that would not gel.

“So you finally worked it out.”

Belle startled on hearing Gaston’s voice and looked up to see him standing calmly in the living room doorway. He would have looked remarkably normal but for the knife in his hand; jagged and vicious-looking, and almost otherworldly in its design.

“You know what I am,” he continued. Belle scrabbled up onto the back of the sofa, as far away from him as she could get, although he made no move to come towards her. She nodded fearfully.

“Say it.”

It was a command, and it was chilling in its tone. Belle gulped, finally finding her voice again.

“You’re a fallen angel,” she whispered. “A demon.”

Gaston smiled cruelly. “Indeed.”

There was a long pause wherein neither of them did anything, just staring each other down, and then Gaston took a measured step into the room. Belle shrank back against the wall as he approached.

“I’d hoped to have some more time in which to prepare,” Gaston said. “But then Gold turned up and ruined all my plans, so this has had to be brought forward slightly.” He raised the knife, studying it intently. “I’m going to need your blood, Belle. All of it.”

“What do you need it for?” Belle squeaked. “Are you working together in some kind of plot?”

“Me, working with _Gold_?” Gaston scoffed. “Good grief no. Like I said, he’s come to wreck my work, not aid it.”

_Still able to work towards redemption_.

The words flashed through Belle’s mind. Gaston was too far gone, but Gold wasn’t. So it was Gold who was the one working against Gaston, not the other way around. In a way, the betrayal stung more than the revelation of the supernatural status quo. Gaston had been in her life for months; how long had he been planning this?

“What do you need my blood for?” Belle repeated.

“I need it for me,” Gaston said. “You’re so lovely and so pure of heart. It’s only a matter of time before my fall overtakes me and it’s a one-way trip down below. But your blood, strong and fresh and pure, will sustain me and put off that fate.”

He was across the room within a second, one strong arm clamping around her waist and hauling her off the back of the sofa as she kicked and screamed and fought against him. Surely someone else in the building would come to her aid, but it was to no avail; even as she sank her teeth into his arm he kept dragging her towards the bathroom, dumping her in the tub.

“Get naked,” he demanded. “Not a drop can be wasted so take all your clothes off, I don’t want it soaking into them.”

Shivering, Belle got onto her knees from her position sprawled in the bath. She’d hit her head on the tiles when Gaston had practically thrown her in there and there were spots dancing in front of her eyes. Looking around groggily at her surroundings, she searched for something she could use to defend herself, and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, her shampoo. Squeezing the bottle tight, a stream of lemon and honey scented soap squirted out of the plastic and into Gaston’s face, sending him staggering backwards as he wiped his eyes.

“Fuck!” He looked up, eyes red and livid and expression an animalistic snarl as Belle was scrambling out of the bathtub, and he dropped the knife, lunging at her with both hands around her neck. Wouldn’t want to spill any blood, obviously.

Somewhere else in the building, as Belle choked for breath, she heard a roar and the sound of wood splintering. Then Gold was in the bathroom doorway, cane raised and the heavy metal handle ready to swing. He looked absolutely ferocious, dark eyes filled with rage.

The cane hit the side of Gaston’s head with a resounding thwack and the man staggered, letting go of Belle and turning to see who had hit him.

Gold swung his cane again, the handle landing squarely in the centre of Gaston’s forehead and propelling him backwards, smashing the mirror above the sink as the back of his head hit it. He slumped down, landing heavily on the floor and sliding towards unconsciousness. Gold stepped into the room, still keeping his cane up and ready to deliver another blow, and he leaned in to Gaston, grabbing his chin and forcing the man to look at him. His words were barely more than a growl as he spoke before letting go and letting him fall out of consciousness.

_“Thou shalt not harm.”_

X

Belle peered over the edge of the tub, where she had retreated in fear when Gold had appeared in the doorway. He was crouched in front of Gaston, binding his hands and feet with a softly pulsing cord, and he glanced over at her.

“It’s ok,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Belle didn’t move.

“I’m just a little concerned,” she said, hating how much her voice was wobbling, “that a man comes in here, smacks another man round the head – not that I’m not grateful for that – and then says ‘thou shalt not harm’.”

Gold sighed. “Humans. We don’t harm humans. Well…” He paused, looking down at Gaston, and for a moment his hand went to his own wrist where his tarnished mark was. “We shouldn’t. That’s how we fall.”

Belle raised herself a little higher in the tub, resting her chin on the edge.

“What happened to make you fall?” she asked. “And why are you protecting me now? Thanks, by the way,” she added. “You saved my life.”

“I made a mistake,” Gold said. “It was a long time ago, many lifetimes. I made a mistake and I lost my son. And as a result, I lost my grace.” He gave a long sigh, sitting back on his haunches as he finished binding Gaston. “I’ve been atoning for that ever since.”

“Is that why you came to protect me?”

“Yes. Protecting humanity from others of my kind. That is my penance.”

He stood, winding another length of cord around his wrist and making to use it to drag the still unconscious Gaston away. “Time to take this one back where he belongs.”

“He can’t atone now, can he?” Belle asked.

“No. He’s too far gone. There’s no hope for him now.”

Belle wasn’t sure whether she ought to be sad or not. “Was he always intending to use my blood? His mark was already black when I met him.”

Gold nodded curtly. “His fall and his plans were slow, meticulous. We didn’t pick up on his movements until it was almost too late. But we managed to stop him in the end.”

Belle nodded. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Gold smiled. “It’s been nice knowing you, Belle French.”

Belle sat up a little straighter in the tub.

“Are you leaving for good?”

“My work here is complete,” Gold said. “There may still be time left for me to serve, more souls for me to save from the irredeemable.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t say anything more, then looked down at Gaston. “How are you going to get him out without everyone noticing? I mean, it’s going to look a bit odd if my boyfriend goes missing and someone saw you dragging him into your shop.”

Gold chuckled.

“Don’t worry, illusion is amongst our powers. No-one will be any the wiser. As far as the town knows, you found out that Gaston had betrayed you and threw him out. If anyone is asked, they saw him leaving town with all his belongings in the trunk.”

Belle nodded. “Thanks. Erm…” She felt she had to say something before he disappeared out of her life forever. “That illusion power, does it extend to dreams?”

Gold quirked an eyebrow.

“We send persuasions, messages through dreams,” he said. “I will admit I sent a couple to you to try and warn you.”

“Right…” Belle paused, brow furrowed. “Are they always so… sexual?”

Gold shook his head, perplexed. “No… we just send the message. It’s entirely up to your mind how that message is interpreted within a dream.”

“Ok.” All of a sudden Belle wanted to hide beneath the level of the tub again. “Well… thank you again.”

Gold nodded his acknowledgement, and then with a deceptively strong yank at Gaston’s bindings, he left the room.

Belle stayed sitting in the empty tub for a long time, trying to process what had happened.

X

Belle wasn’t surprised to see the antiques shop boarded up the next morning when she passed it on her way to Granny’s for Sunday brunch after a blissfully dreamless sleep, and she stopped, staring at it from the doorway of the library opposite just as everyone had done three days before when it had unexpectedly reopened. No-one seemed to be taking any notice of it now, and Belle supposed that it was the illusory power that Gold spoke of, making it seem that nothing had changed. All the same, she was still intrigued by the shop, even though it no longer had an owner, and she crossed the road towards it.

The main door was locked, as was to be expected, and the side door was as well, but the lock here was an old one, large and heavy and easy to pick. Belle pulled one of the bobby pins out of her hair and bent it out, shoving it in the lock and wiggling about. She paused and looked up but there was no-one else around at this time of a morning, everyone else going about their usual weekend business and paying the closed library and shop no heed.

Finally the lock clicked and she opened the door, looking around at the back room of the shop that she had seen briefly only once, but knew intimately from a dream. The carpet that had covered the Hellmouth was rolled up in one corner and there was no trace of a mark on the floor, but it was obvious that the place had been occupied until very recently; there were no layers of dust or grime coating any of the myriad objects in this collector’s paradise. It made Belle smile, because even if she was the only one to know it, it was still a sign that something had changed and that everything that had happened over the last couple of days had really happened, it wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. Well, the very absent Gaston and the very obvious crack in her mirror that her former fiancé’s skull had made were reminders in and of themselves, but it was good to know that there were reminders outside of her own home and her own head.

There was no rush, so she wandered around the shop and the back room unhurriedly, picking up all the little trinkets and turning them over in her fingers, wondering whether it would technically be stealing to take them if they had no owner. Nothing had a price on, otherwise she would perhaps have left money on the counter for anything she took, but who would come to collect it? Another fallen angel looking for repentance, perhaps, if they ever had cause to come to Storybrooke again? Belle shivered at the thought; not of an angel coming to protect one of her fellow townsfolk but at the notion that it might be necessary. She had come so close to losing her life, and not one of her friends realised.

“Belle?”

Belle screamed and dropped the teacup that she had been examining, whirling around to find Gold standing in the doorway between the shop and the back room. He looked a little startled by the sound, and Belle blinked several times to make sure that she wasn’t imagining him.

“Gold? Is that you? Are you… real?”

Gold nodded. “It’s me. I can assure you I’m real, but you’ll have to trust me on that one.”

Belle nodded and bent to pick up the cup. “I’m so sorry, it’s chipped.”

He waved her worry aside. “It’s just a cup.”

She set the china down on the workbench lest her shaking fingers drop it again, and she just stared at him, the man she had thought had vanished forever.

“Why are you back?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

Gold shook his head with a smile.

“No. Everything’s very right, actually.”

The fingers of his left hand curled over the wrist of his right, and Belle’s heart leapt to her mouth as he undid his cufflink and pushed the jacket and shirt sleeve up to reveal his mark, shimmering silver-gold like the mark in the photograph she had seen online.

“It seems that you were my saving grace after all,” he said.

Belle smiled. “We saved each other.” She perched on the workbench and Gold came over, sitting beside her.

“So, what are you going to do now?” she asked.

“Well, I have my second chance now. I can live again, live normally as a mortal and help out where I can, where I’m needed. I’ve missed being able to live here.” He looked around the back room of the shop with an appraising eye. “I think I’ll keep the shop. It’s a good base of operations and I’ve always liked tinkering with stuff like this. Storybrooke seems like a nice enough place.” He turned to Belle and smiled. “The people are certainly lovely.”

Belle giggled, looking away before she could blush at the comment.

“Now that you’re here for good, do you have a first name?” she asked.

“I suppose I’m going to have to get one.” Gold sighed. “I don’t think they’ll let me put just ‘Mr Gold’ on my social security documents.”

“Don’t you actually have one?”

Gold shrugged. “I can’t remember my name from my first mortal life before I fell. In the other realms, I’ve always just been Gold.” The corner of his lip quirked in a smile. “Why don’t you name me?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she said eventually, and Gold scoffed.

“I think that’s worse than having no first name at all,” he said.

“Well, we could just call you by your last name and keep everyone guessing,” Belle suggested. “I mean, think about it, no-one would ever guess that was your name.”

“I am not calling myself Rumpelstiltskin. I do have some standards, you know.”

“We could call you Rumpel for short!”

“No.”

“All right then. We need a name that goes nicely with Gold. Two syllables, I think. And you’re Scottish, so it really ought to be something Scottish.”

Gold snorted. “Thank goodness that rules out Rumpelstiltskin, then.”

“Aidan,” Belle said after some consideration. “Aidan Gold.”

He pondered the name for a moment, then gave a nod. “Aidan it is. But I still prefer just Gold.”

“Not a problem, Just Gold.”

Gold gave a huff of good-natured despair and Belle smiled. It was nice to get to know the man, now that she wasn’t quite so worried about what his intentions might be. At the same time, despite everything that they had been through in the last few days, she had no idea what to say now, what common ground they might have. Gold already knew all about her as part of his mission to protect her, and his own former life was so long ago that he couldn’t even remember his name from it.

“I guess I’ll… see you around,” she said.

“Please don’t leave on my account,” Gold said. “Keep looking around if you want.”

Belle glanced down at the workbench and remembered the last time she had seen him sitting on it, in her dream, and what had occurred afterwards, and she felt the heat beginning to build at the apex of her thighs. She felt like she knew him so intimately, or rather, he knew her so intimately, and yet it had all been a product of her imagination. The dreams were already fading, and she wanted something concrete to remember.

“Gold,” she began. “You know my dreams, the ones you gave me?”

Gold nodded. “What about them?”

“Well, in those dreams, we were… intimate.”

Gold raised his eyebrows. “That was really not the intended effect.”

“I know. But we were. You touched me, you brought me exquisite pleasure, and it was only in a dream.”

Gold’s eyes widened a little. He knew exactly what she was hinting at.

“Belle,” he said, “it’s not that you’re not a very lovely, very beautiful young woman whom I would very much like to get to know intimately, but are you sure this is a good idea? You’ve just gone through a major upheaval, losing your fiancé and finding out he wasn’t as he seemed. I’ve just been through a major upheaval for that matter. Is what you’re suggesting really wise?”

Belle shook her head. “Nope. Not at all. But right now, with all the confusion of the last three days and the fact that you and I are the only living souls who know what really happened makes me want something real and physical to make sure I’m not going mad. I want a real memory that I know really happened.”

She hoped he would understand her reasoning. It was a bad idea; they barely knew each other, and Belle had been engaged to another man up until a few short hours ago. But despite all that, there was a connection there between them, a pull that Belle had felt the moment she met him and that had only increased over the course of her strange dreams.

Gold nodded. “Ok. If you’re sure, I would very much like that.” He paused. “I can’t promise to live up to your fantasies, though. I’m just a man.”

“An angel,” Belle corrected.

“An angel in mortal form, ergo, a man.”

Belle just smiled. “Shut up and kiss me, Man.”

Gold gave a little salute and leaned in, cupping her face and slanting his mouth over hers. He was a good kisser, a little hesitant but still enthusiastic when she opened eagerly for him, slipping her arms around his neck to pull in closer. He looked a little mind-blown as she broke away, and she had to giggle.

“That was your first kiss in what, a hundred years?” she asked.

“Longer,” Gold rasped. He slid his arms around her middle and pulled her in for another, a hungry, possessive kiss like she remembered from her dreams, and she moaned against his mouth. Immediately he broke away.

“Sorry, was that too much? I get carried away whenever I get physical form, I guess I’m a bit excited at being able to do this again…”

Belle pressed a finger over his lips to silence him.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Keep going.”

Gold was happy to do just that, and his hands wandered down to settle on her waist as they continued to kiss. Belle nibbled her way down to his jaw and neck, pecking little butterfly kisses in a trail and feeling his pulse fluttering. She paused.

“Maybe I won’t give you a hickie on your first day back,” she said. “Don’t want the townsfolk to gossip, after all.”

Gold just smirked.

“Shall we move off this rather uncomfortable bench?” he asked, nodding towards the small couch in the corner covered with throw blankets and pillows. Belle nodded, taking him by the hand and leading him over there, then going to unfasten the bow at the neck of her blouse. She paused. For all they had done such things in her dreams, for all Belle had undressed in front of him in her mind’s eye, he had never actually seen beneath her clothes in reality. She remembered the confidence she had felt in her dreams, the empowerment, and she pulled the bow loose, quickly unfastening the buttons and shrugged the blouse off. She was wearing a vintage style long-line bra that covered her rib-cage, black satin with a pattern of pink roses, and Gold gave an appreciative nod when he saw it, fingers going to his own buttons as Belle unknotted his tie and pulled it off. She turned her back.

“Unzip me?” she said once Gold’s shirt was off, his mark shimmering in the morning sun that filtered through the half-closed blinds. He dragged the zip of her skirt down achingly slowly, pushing the fabric down over her hips and watching it fall to her feet. Belle stepped out of it and her shoes, unclipping her stockings from her suspender belt. Gold licked his lips as she rolled the hosiery down her thighs, and she could see the bulge of his cock hardening in his trousers.

“Your turn,” she said.

He sat down on the couch to remove the rest of his clothes, finally easing his increasingly tented shorts down his legs to reveal his throbbing erection. Belle swallowed. For all she had gone nude in her dreams, she had never seen him in any way undressed until now. He was large for his height, fully hard and ready, but he seemed to pay no mind to his own body, taking Belle’s hands and looking up at her with reverence.

“I like what I see,” she whispered. “Do you?”

Gold nodded. “So much, lovely Belle. May I see some more?”

Belle nodded, unfastening her bra and tossing it off to the side before shimmying out of her panties. She let him look his fill, taking in her bare body for the first time in the flesh.

“You are so very beautiful.”

Belle smiled, and unconsciously pressed her thighs together, feeling wet on them.

“I want you,” she said.

Gold nodded once.

“I don’t have any protection,” he admitted. “I mean, my form is renewed every time I cross the barrier between realms so this one is new this morning, when I returned. So I know I’m not carrying anything, but I’m still a man.”

“You can still make me pregnant,” Belle summarised. “It’s ok. I have an implant and I was clean at my last exam; I’ve only been with Gaston since.” She didn’t want to think about Gaston, not when she and Gold were here, so close, with no clothes on and ready to go. “Do you think he…”

Gold shook his head. “We would have known if he was targeting another as well.”

Belle nodded, relieved. “In that case, there’s no need to worry.”

Gold took her hands in his again and pulled her down onto his lap; her thighs either side of his and her hot, dripping centre pressing urgently against his hard cock. She rocked her hips into his, needing the friction.

“Take what you want,” he whispered in her ear, cupping her breasts and massaging them, squeezing and rubbing at her nipples until they pebbled into pert peaks that he bent to suck on, tongue flickering playfully. He was gentler than he’d always been in her dreams, and Belle wondered if perhaps it was the inkling that he was a demon that had made him more depraved and rough in her mind, playing into stereotypes. She couldn’t say that she disliked this new, this _real_ version of him at all, though.

“I just want you,” she replied. “I want to feel you inside me, really inside.”

Gold nodded and his hands slipped down to her buttocks, helping to lift her up on her knees and hold her steady as she reached for his cock, lining him up with her wet entrance and lowering herself slowly onto his shaft, feeling him fill her up as far as she could take him. Having him to the hilt would be uncomfortable, too deep, and she was glad of his hands firmly under ass cheeks keeping her from sinking onto him any further.

“Set the pace. I’ve got you,” he said softly. “I won’t let go.”

He wouldn’t hurt her, Belle already knew that. She’d known that since last night, when he’d explained his presence to her. No, he would never harm her. Gradually she began to move, Gold lifting her up and balancing her as she rocked her hips up and down. His eyes fluttered closed, head thrown back, but his grip on her ass never wavered.

“Oh Belle, lovely Belle, you feel so good,” he panted. “Take what you need, sweetheart.”

The feeling of him inside her and knowing it was real and he was here with her, having as much pleasure as she was, was almost enough in and of itself, but Belle needed more, her swollen clit desperate for attention. With both his hands occupied keeping her rear steady, she snaked one of her own down between their perspiring bodies, drawing circles around her pearl until she felt her knees begin to quiver and her inner walls begin to clutch, her climax washing through her like a wonderful balm.

_“Gold!”_

He spilled himself inside her a moment later, burying his face in her shoulder with a gasp of her name as her came. They stayed in their close embrace for a while, until Belle raised herself on her knees and Gold pulled out of her, semen dribbling down her thigh. She collapsed back onto his lap, fingers digging into his shoulders to ground her, and she let him manoeuvre them around so that they were lying on the couch, chest to chest, cuddled together as they came down from that wonderful high, so much more intense than anything in her dreams.

“Tell me about your dreams,” Gold said presently, as if he’d read her mind.

“Oh no…” Belle buried her face in the couch covers. “Oh God, it’s so embarrassing now that I look back on it.”

“No, no, I want to hear about them.” Gold’s voice was amused, and Belle thought that since they were currently both stark naked on his couch, in his shop, there probably wouldn’t be a better time.

“The first was the night before you arrived. I was in purgatory and I heard you discussing me with your master.”

Gold nodded. “That’s not uncommon. People who are particularly attuned to us – and you’re especially sensitive it seems – often foresee our coming. Go on.”

“Then I was in my old dance studio. You were there watching, then I took my clothes off and danced with you.”

“All of them?”

“Well, I kept my shoes on, I could hardly dance en pointe without them. I mean, I was only wearing a leotard to start with, it wasn’t as if I had a lot to remove.”

Gold’s eyebrows shot up.

“Right. That’s… interesting. I was trying to remind you of your life before Gaston and how free and happy you had been then.”

Belle giggled. “You know, I really don’t think that dream persuasion is one of your strong points.”

“Possibly not. Go on, though.”

“The next time we were in here. You invited me back here to see your most precious treasures and you ended up fingering me on the workbench.”

“That really wasn’t what I intended,” Gold said, alarmed. “I was trying to tell you that it wasn’t too late for you to leave Gaston and save yourself.”

“You did say that it wasn’t too late to run,” Belle mused. “But at the time, you were tickling my clit so I didn’t really want to go anywhere.”

Gold shook his head in despair.

“I’m never sending dream persuasions again,” he muttered. “It seems that they’re fated to get lost in translation and go from genuinely helpful suggestions to porn in the blink of an eye.”

Belle laughed out loud.

“The final one was different,” she said, once composure returned. “Darker.”

“Well, that one was entirely you,” Gold declared smugly. “And your… vivid imagination. I only sent you the two persuasions.”

“Are you sure? It seemed very like the others in form if not content, very real.”

“I’m positive.”

“Well, it was different. We were somewhere in the dark. You ordered me to be undressed and then went down on me as part of a ritual at the Hellmouth. You needed my, erm…”

“Ejaculate?” Gold suggested matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, that.” Belle buried her face in his chest, feeling his even breathing and his hands tracing patterns over her back. “So now you know.”

“That last one definitely wasn’t me,” Gold said. “Although I think it might have been Gaston.”

“Why would Gaston give me a dream of someone other than him giving me the best orgasm of my life?”

“Well, I think your imagination embroidered slightly like it did with the other dreams. He probably wasn’t aware that you’d been having such a good time with the previous persuasions. Think about it; in any other circumstances a lovely young woman being forced to strip naked and take part in strange demonic rituals would be the stuff of horror films. I think Gaston was trying to make you fear me, but he was defeated by your own overactive brain.”

“True,” Belle conceded. “Smut as a self-defence mechanism. I like it.”

They stayed cuddled together for a long time, occasionally stealing kisses and caresses, until Belle’s skin turned to gooseflesh.

“We should probably get dressed,” she said reluctantly.

“Yes, I need to use the bathroom. There are downsides to mortal form sometimes.”

Belle gave a snort of laughter and rolled off the couch, gathering up her clothes and admiring Gold’s ass as he moved towards the small WC at the back of the shop. Or, she would have done, had she not been transfixed by the sprawling pattern tattooed over his back in the same shimmering silvery-gold as his angel mark.

“Woah,” she said. “Gaston definitely didn’t have one of those.”

“What?” Gold twisted and peered behind him as best he could. “Oh.” He gave an embarrassed cough and rolled his shoulders, and the mark disappeared.

“What was that?” Belle pressed.

“Wing memory,” he said. “I have no wings, but sometimes I can still feel them, like a phantom limb. I haven’t felt it since I fell. It comes when I’m…”

“Bathing in the afterglow of a wonderful orgasm?” Belle suggested.

“I was going to say ‘very happy’ but your description works too.”

Belle winked at him and let him slip into the bathroom, giving his ass a final appraising glance before starting to pull her clothes on.

“So what happens now?” she asked Gold when he returned, handing her a damp cloth to clean up the mess on her legs and beginning to dress.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “And if you’d like to see where this goes, then… why don’t we see where this goes?”

Belle smiled. “That sounds heavenly.”

Gold rolled his eyes. “Ok, if we’re going to do this, I’m setting ground rules. No heaven or hell or angel puns. Ever.”

“Not even on special occasions?” Belle pouted. Gold’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll think about it.”

Belle went up on tiptoes with a grin, pecking a kiss to his cheek.

“Good.”

_Fin_


End file.
